


Blue Hour

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [91]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Cuddling, Existing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Pregnant OFC, Smut, red nose day tom - Freeform, red nose day tom hiddleston - Freeform, rnd!tom - Freeform, the red nose diaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 19:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15395928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: It’s early, and while Carmen sleeps, Tom gets a little alone time with his little Birty.





	Blue Hour

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this drabble for Tumblr user Keldachick, the prize in a drabble giveway upon reaching 380 followers for my fic tumblr, oeffsee.tumblr.com.
> 
> Keldachick's request: "A Tom/Carmen/Birty drabble with Tom saying some absurdly adorable nonsense to the baby in her belly and Carmen half making fun of him half swooning ❤."

Tom knew the day would be hot and long so for now, when it was so early and the sun hadn’t yet risen so the morning was cool and blue and his beloved slept beside him, he said good morning to his baby.

His baby. Their baby. Their Birty.

Tucked away, safe and warm. Close but he couldn’t hold Birty in his arms. Not yet, so Tom did the next best thing. Slipping under the bed sheet, Tom scooted down and carefully laid his head on Carmen’s belly.

She shifted, Carmen did, but only slightly. She did not wake. Sleep came easily to her these days, and when it did it was rich and sweet. Carmen swore she could taste it before it overtook her, which spoke to how much she craved it as a balm to ease the other symptoms that were not quite so pleasant.

Tom listened to her breathing, noting that she sounded less congested than usual. Smiling, he kissed a spot just below her navel and made a hum of contentment.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he whispered into her skin. “How are you?”

There was no response, of course, so Tom imagined one. When he closed his eyes, he pictured an infant, no more than six or seven months in age. The infant had wisps of dark blonde hair and eyes so brown they were almost black. His little hands clutched at a stuffed blue bear, a bear that resembled the bears embroidered into the fabric of his pajamas. In his mind, Birty was close enough that Tom could reach out and feel, then squeeze, Birty’s little foot as it wiggled. When he did, Birty giggled then mouthed at his doll’s ears.

“Today you are nine weeks and one day old,” Tom whispered. “According to the internet, you are the size of a cherry.”

Carmen’s belly rose and fall as she breathed. Tom’s vision of Birty blinked at him rapidly.

“You won’t be that size for long,” Tom reminded Birty. “Last week, in our first chat, I said you were the size of a kidney bean.” He brushed his hand over Carmen’s stomach before bringing it to rest on her hip. “Mama and I will probably get married when you’re about the size of an avocado. A few weeks after that, when Mama and I take you to Chicago, you’ll be the size of a banana.”

Birty’s bear was replaced by a banana, a tiny one that was big enough for him to hold in his chubby hands. The baby squeezed it before bringing it to his lips for a taste. He dropped it, then picked up his little bear again.

“I’m counting down the days, the weeks,” Tom cooed. “Thirty one weeks to go. When we get to finally meet you, you’ll be the size of a watermelon.” He kissed Carmen’s hip. “What do you think?”

Birty blinked again, then graced his father with a smile so sweet that Tom felt his heart ache with longing. Holding one hand out, he closed it to form a fist, and opened it again to wiggle his fingers. Tom was about to reach out, grab at the little fingers, but then Carmen moved again. Tom’s head was jostled, for she had woken up from her sleep.

“Baby?” Carmen croaked, smacking her lips.

Tom emerged from underneath the sheet, first to kiss her and then to pass her the bottle of water that had taken up residence on his nightstand. “Here, love.” He watched her take one sip, then another, before taking the bottle back and putting it away. He resumed his place at her side, turning his body so he could look at and hold her.

“How’s Birty doing?” Carmen asked, kissing the tip of his nose.

“He’s the size of a cherry,” replied Tom.

“Oh?” Carmen chuckled. “Sour or sweet?”

“Very funny, love.” Tom kissed her lips. “You sleep alright?”

Carmen nodded. “Did my snoring wake you up?”

“You don’t snore, love, you snuffle and it’s the cutest thing in the world.” He nuzzled her cheek. “You sounded fine.”

“But I didn’t wake you?” Tom nodded, but she persisted. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t want to be late for my morning chat with Birty,” explained Tom. He blushed under Carmen’s gaze. “You’re too sweet,” she muttered. “And so prepared.”

Tom’s forehead creased, showing his confusion. “Prepared?”

“Mm hmm,” Carmen said, dreamily. She hugged him to her. “I guess you’re never too young for some Tomsplaining…”

“Car,” growled Tom, nipping at her ear. “I was just saying…”

“Shuddup,” Carmen growled. She pushed Tom onto his back, then began to climb on top of him. Groaning, she reached for his cock, and began to stroke it. “I love it.” She gasped when his cock twitched in her gasp. “I love you and…”

Tom covered his hand with hers, moving it off his cock before seeking the wet heat of her sex with his own nimble fingers. He touched her, rubbing her clit and tracing her folds, covering his fingers with her juices until they were slick enough to smear over the head of his cock. Above him, Carmen breathed into his mouth, stealing kisses with her lips and her tongue. She whimpered, but only for a moment. Carmen had to laugh when Tom tickled her clit with the head of his cock — a light rubbing, then a little harder, before pushing inside her. She sank down upon him, and Tom thought that she looked sated and sleepy and as beautiful as ever in the dim blue light of morning.


End file.
